Paul Theroux - The Consul's File

Yusof gave me the name of the man, Tan See Leng, owner of the Tai-Hwa Rubber Estate. I went over that afternoon. At first Tan refused to see me, but when I sent him my card with the consulate address and the American eagle on it, he rushed out of his office and apologized. He was a thin evasive man with spiky hair, and though he pretended not to be surprised when I said Garcia was an American national I could tell this was news to him. He said he knew nothing about Garcia, apart from the fact that he'd been a good foreman. He'd never seen him socially. He confirmed that Garcia lived behind an impenetrable fence.

'Who owned the house?'

'He did.'

'That's something,' I said. 'I suppose you knew he \\asleaving the country.'

'He was not leaving. He was wucking.'

'It would help if you told me the truth,' I said.

Tan's bony face tightened with anger. He said, 'Perhaps he intended to leave. I do not know.'

'I take it business isn't so good.'

'The rubber price is low, some planters are switching to oil-palm. But the price will rise if we are patient.'

'What did you pay Garcia?'

'Two thousand a month. He was on permanent terms — he signed one of the old contracts. We were very generous in those days with expatriates.'

'But he could have broken the contract.'

'Some men break.'

'Up in Ayer Hitam they have something called a "golden hand-shake". If they want to get rid of a foreigner they offer him a chunk of money as compensation for loss of career.'

'That is Ayer Hitam,' said Tan. 'This is Johore.'

'And they always pay cash, because it's against the law to take that much money out of the country. No banks. Just a suitcase full of Straits dollars.'

Tan said nothing.

I said, 'I don't think Garcia or Tibbets were queer. I think this was robbery, pure and simple.'

'The houses were not broken into.'

'So the papers say,' I said. 'It's the only thing I don't understand. Both men were killed at home during the day.'

'Mister,' said Tan. 'You should leave this to the police.'

'You swear you didn't give Garcia a golden hand-shake?'

'That is against the law, as you say.'

'It's not as serious as murder, is it?'

In the course of the conversation, Tan had turned to wood. I was sure he was lying, but he stuck to his story. I decided to have nothing more to do with the police or Yusof and instead to go back to the house of Peeraswami's brother, to test a theory of my own.

The house bore many similarities to Garcia's and to what I knew of Tibbets's. It was secluded, out of town, rather characterless, and the high fence was topped with barbed wire. Sathya, Peeraswami's brother, asked me how I liked Johore. I told him that I liked it so much I wanted to spend a few days there, but that I didn't want the Embassy to know where I was. I asked him if he would put me up.

'Oh, yes,' he said, 'You are welcome. But you would be more comfortable in a hotel.'

'It's much quieter here.'

'It is the country life. We have no car.'

'It's just what I'm looking for.'

After I was shown to my bedroom I excused myself and went to the offices of The Johore Mail, read the classified ads for the previous few weeks and placed an ad myself. For the next two days I explored Johore, looked over the Botanical Gardens and the Sultan's mosque, and ingratiated myself with Sathya and his family. I had arrived on a Friday. On Monday I said to Sathya, Tm expecting a phone-call today.'

Sathya said, 'This is your house.'

'I feel I ought to do something in return,' I said. 'I have a driver and a car — I don't need them today. Why don't you use them? Take your wife and children over to Singapore and enjoy yourself.'

He hesitated, but finally I persuaded him. Abubaker, on the other hand, showed an obvious distaste for taking an Indian family out for the day.

‘Peeraswami,' I said. 'I'd like you to stay here with me.'

'Tuan,' he said, agreeing. Sathya and the others left. I locked the gate behind him and sat by the telephone to wait.

There were four phone calls. Three of the callers I discouraged by describing the location, the size of the house, the tiny garden, the work I said had to be done on the roof. And I gave the same story to the last caller, but he was insistent and eager to see it. He said he'd be right over.

Rawlins was the name he gave me. He came in a new car, gave me a hearty greeting and was not at all put off by the slightly ramshackle appearance of the house. He smoked a cheroot which had stained his teeth and the centre swatch of his moustache a sticky yellow, and he walked around with one hand cupped, tapping ashes into his palm.

'You're smart not to use an agent,' he said, looking over the house. 'These estate agents are bloody thieves.'

I showed him the garden, the lounge, the kitchen.

He sniffed and said, 'You like curry.'

'My cook's an Indian.' He went silent, glanced around suspiciously, and I added, 'I gave him the day off.'

'You lived here long?'

'Ten years. I'm chucking it. I've been worried about selling this place ever since I broke my contract.'

'Rubber?' he said, and spat a fragment of the cheroot into his hand.

'Yes,' I said. 'I was manager of an estate up in Kluang.'

He asked me the price and when I told him he said, 'I can manage that.' He took out a cheque-book. 'I'll give you a deposit now and the balance when contracts are exchanged. We'll put our lawyers in touch and Bob's your uncle. Got a pen?'

I went to the desk and opened a drawer, but as I rummaged he said, 'Okay, turn around slow and put your hands up.'

I did as I was told and heard the cheroot hitting the floor. Above the kris Rawlins held his face was fierce and twisted. In such an act a man reverts; his face was pure monkey, threatening teeth and eyes. He said, 'Now hand it over.'

'What is this?' I said. 'What do you want?'

'Your money, all of it, your hand-shake.'

'I don't have any money.'

'They always lie,' he said. 'They always fight, and then I have to do them. Just make it easy this time. The money—'

But he said no more, for Peeraswami in his bare feet crept behind him from the broom cupboard where he had been hiding and brought a cast-iron frying pan down so hard on his skull that I thought for a moment I saw a crack show in the man's forehead. We tied Rawlins up with Sathya's neckties and then I rang Yusof.

On the way to police headquarters, where Yusof insisted the corpse be delivered, I said, 'This probably would not have happened if you didn't have such strict exchange control regulations.'

'So it was robbery,' said Yusof, 'but how did he know Tibbets and Garcia had had golden hand-shakes.'

'He guessed. There was no risk involved. He knew they were leaving the country because they'd put their houses up for sale. Expatriates who own houses here have been in the country a long time, which means they're taking a lot of money out in a suitcase. You should read the paper.'

'I read the paper,' said Yusof. 'Malay and English press.'

'I mean the classified ads, where it says, "Expatriate-owned house for immediate sale. Leaving the country. No agents." Tibbets and Garcia placed that ad, and so did I.'

Yusof said, 'I should have done that. I could have broken this case.'

'I doubt it — he wouldn't have done business with a Malay,' I said. 'But remember, if a person says he wants to buy your house you let him in. It's the easiest way for a burglar to enter — through the front door. If he's a white man in this country no one suspects him. We're supposed to trust each other. As soon as I realized it had something to do with the sale of a house I knew the murderer would be white.'

'He didn't know they were alone.'

'The wife and kids always fly out first, especially if daddy's breaking currency regulations.'